Lizzie's Long Journey Home
by Golden Sunflower
Summary: A day after Darcy's proposal, Mr. Bennet dies, forcing the Bennet women into the hedgerows.  Elizabeth and Jane find themselves in London, where adventure awaits...
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: Thanks to Miss Pseudonymous for being my inspiration, my muse and the best friend ever. **

**(Not to mention the one that hacked into my account to edit and post this, and is thinking of sullying my good name by tinkering with the text.)**

**Thanks go also to Jane Austen for the characters, and Georgette Heyer, for giving me my lifelong love of regency romances.**

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Elizabeth bit down on her bottom lip hard.

"Why of course Charlotte dear. We understand Mr. Collins' position. Longbourne will be ready for you by the end of the week."

She sighed. How had it come to this? Only last week, her position as governess to Lady Braithwaite's children had been secured. And only two weeks before that, had Mr. Collins letter arrived, saying that he was kindly giving them one month to vacate Longbourne. And only two months before that, had her father died. And only one day before that had she refused marriage to one of the richest men in all North England.

It was ironic.

"Charlotte, I know you will understand if I leave you now. There is simply to much to do."

"Of course Lizzie," Charlotte shifted uncomfortably, Elizabeth stood.

"Goodbye Charlotte."

After her visitor had left, Elizabeth went in search of Jane. She found her in the small room they shared, packing her trunk, Lizzie walked into her sisters arms. She felt so alone.

"Oh Jane. Charlotte has just been here. They are waiting at the Lucas's. Waiting for us to leave." Lizzie took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry.

"How much longer do we have, Jane?"

"I believe Uncle said he wanted to leave by noon."

Lizzie sat on the bed struggling with her composure.

"Lizzie, we will be strong. We must be strong. Mother and Kitty and Lydia will be at Aunt Philips', and Mary left for the Convent yesterday. We have good, well-paying positions waiting for us. It will not be easy, but it is clear what we must do."

"Oh Jane, you bear it so well. It will be so strange. Me a governess, you a ladies companion. We will have so little time to be together."

Lizzie tugged at her black high-necked gown. If only... If only what? Mr.. Bennet had not collapsed suddenly and died? If only she had agreed to be Mr.. Darcy's wife? Unthinkable! If only Mr. Bingley had proposed to Jane before disappearing to London? There was a thought.

"Jane?"

"Yes dear."

"Maybe you will meet Mr. Bingley when you are in London. After all, you will be accompanying Mrs. Wyncham to fashionable dinners and parties, will you not?"

"Lizzie, if we do meet, he won't remember who I am, if he notices me at all. Remember, I will be caring for an elderly lady, not enjoying myself."

Lizzie sighed. "I suppose so. How are we ever going to get married now? Maybe that draper's assistant in Meryton will do for me."

Her sister giggled. "He is always so accommodating with the fabric and ribbons. And that bright red hair could serve instead of candles. Why, we could save a lot of money that way."

"Or the fish shop just got a new boy. He has freckles, and spiky hair, but the cologne he wears..." She was grinning wickedly, "Eau de salmon!"

They laughed together. The room was empty now. Taking one last look, they stepped out together.

Uncle Gardiner drew up in his coach. Mrs. Bennet stood on the porch sobbing with her two youngest daughters.

They waved. "Goodbye Mother, we will write as soon as we can."

"Goodbye Lizzie, Goodbye Jane."

The coach set off at a fair speed, and Lizzie sat back. She released a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Her mind was flashing with images of the last few weeks. She had barely had time to think.

A dark head. Haughty, conceited. Stalking out of the morning room at Hunsford.

Herself, sitting on the sofa, crying with fury.

The express arriving at Hunsford, Mr. Collins in his nightshirt, the shocking news of her father's demise.

Five sisters by an open grave. All in black. All crying.

Mr. Collins arriving. The realisation of homelessness dawning on her mother's face.

Again a dark head, "You must allow me to tell you how much I admire and love you."

Lizzie wondered where he was. Why do I care? She tried to push the thought away. She had left Hunsford a scarce twelve hours after their last encounter. She smiled wryly. They had certainly not parted on good terms.

The traveling was wearying and Lizzie was relieved when they arrived at Cheapside. She fell into her aunt's warm embrace. The tears she had held back all day could not silenced any longer, and she buried her head in Aunt Gardiner's shoulder. She shook for a long while, Aunt Gardiner stroking her hair, Jane clutching her other arm. At last she stopped. Embarrassed, she scrubbed her eyes.

"Well now, Lizzie, Jane. I'm sure you are both famished. Dinner is served." The girls smiled gratefully.

Early the next morning, Lizzie awoke. Where was she? The truth broke over her in a wave. She was in London. Today she would begin her job as a governess. Today her life would begin again.

She woke Jane. Jane would be leaving too. Mrs. Wyncham lived only a short while from the Braithwaites, for which Lizzie was thankful. They were sure to meet.

Lizzie pulled on the bell and stepped away from the door. It was opened by a maid.

"I am Elizabeth Bennet, the new governess." Her voice came out high and unnatural.

"Please come in."

A tall woman with a very square chin strode into the room a short while later. "Good morning Miss Bennet. I am Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper. I hope you are well. Your journey was satisfactory? Good, good. Now you have come very highly recommended, and I have a good feeling about you already. You will meet the children now. You begin lessons tomorrow. Did you want to ask me anything? No? Good."

Lizzie was drawn upstairs by the capable woman, noticing the beautiful hangings and richly coloured carpets. After her life at Longbourne, she felt lost in the huge hallways and ornate surroundings. There was no getting away from the fact she was in the town now.

As they reached the door of the nurseries, a boy of about nineteen or twenty came down the hall.  
"Jonesy, did I hear that there were ginger biscuits fresh in the kitchen today?"

Mrs. Jones eyes lit up. "Elliot, my dear. Yes there are. Cook has made a special plate for you."

Elliot's eyes narrowed as he stared at Lizzie. "The new governess, I suppose?"

Lizzie started. "Yes, I am."

"Pretty."

He pushed past her, too close to be comfortable. And looked back over his shoulder to give her one last measured look before disappearing through a door.

Mrs. Jones gave a happy sigh, "That Elliot. He's the death of me. Now don't take any notice of him. He's just a mischievous little boy."

Lizzie nodded. "Of course."

She pushed the door open. "And these," said Mrs. Jones, "are the children."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Authors note: Thanks to all of you reading this. **

**I can try and post a chapter a day, if I see there is interest! **

**Thanks also go to Miss Pseudonymous for editing and the lego, and movie recommendations. I love you! **

**(It's mutual, m'dear. Yes, this is Miss P, come a-hackin')**

**

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Lizzie prepared herself for bed, looking ruefully at the thin blanket.

She called the nursery maid.

"Tillie, is there an extra blanket somewhere? I'm afraid I'll freeze with just one."

Tillie showed Lizzie the linens nervously.

"Thank you, Tillie. I always get cold. My sisters always laughed at me when I needed a thick duvet in summer. Where are you from?"

"From Plymouth, Ma'm"

"Is that near the sea?"

Yes, Ma'm. Me n m'brothers went in the water every day from May till November some years."

"I've never been to the sea, but I would love to go."

"Goodnight, Ma'm."

"Please call me Lizzie."

"Are you sure ma'm? Miss Gilbert, her that was here afore you, never let me be free with her name."

Lizzie smiled.

"Well, I'm letting you now. I think we are going to be great friends."

Tillie looked surprised. But she did smile.

Lizzie snuggled under her cover. Tillie tossed and turned on the other side of the room. Lizzie sighed. Jane had been a quiet sleeper.

The room was an attic room, so the ceiling sloped a little, but it was comfortable if not cosy, and clean. The two beds were on either side of the door, and a dresser and table were squeezed under the window. Lizzie mentally shook a tablecloth over the table and a vase of fresh flowers on the dresser. She added a mirror, and hooks on the back of the door Much better

She started to write a letter to Mama in her head.

"There are four children. The eldest is Emma. She is 15 and very beautiful in a pink and white way, although she has a little puppy fat to lose. She seems very friendly".  
In truth, Lizzie owned to herself, Emma's beauty had nearly taken her breath away. "I will not be giving Emma many lessons, I will be more of a companion and I hope, a friend to her.

"The next child is Katherine. Her sisters called her Kate. She is very skinny, with a sharp face. She looked unhappy." Lizzie smiled, and mentally tore up the letter she was writing. Mama would not be interested in Kate. But Lizzie was. She was intrigued by the small girl. Kate looked like there was a lot going on in her world; Lizzie hoped she would let her in.

And there was Lucinda, a smiling ball of eight years. Eager to please and be loved by everyone.

There was also a baby, Jackie, who was in the charge of Nanny and Tillie, and Elliot, who was the son of Lord Braithwaite from his first marriage. Lizzie thought for a moment. It was just as well she would have no reason to see him, as she would spend most of her days up in the nurseries.

* * *

The next day she began lessons. Kate was clever, and Lucinda enjoyed learning.

Lizzie closed her books.

"Good, Kate, that was excellent. Now tomorrow we will go on a nature walk."

Lucinda clapped her hands, "Oh, Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet!"

Kate gave a small smile.

"I will ask Emma to join us."

Kate's smile dissolved. Lizzie filed that tidbit of information away to mull over later.

Lizzie left the room to freshen up for luncheon. She would be taking breakfast and Lunch with the children, but would be eating downstairs with Emma for dinner, when the family was home.

* * *

That evening, Lizzie dressed simply in grey, with a very modest neckline. Her hair was in a tight bun, with no curl to soften the look. She looked at herself in the mirror, and could not suppress a smile.  
She looked every inch the demure governess. In truth, she did look like a governess, but a young, fresh faced pretty governess. The tight hairstyle could not detract from the healthy sheen of her hair, and the simple dress did not hide her pleasing figure.

Sitting at the table, Lizzie had an uncomfortable feeling of being scrutinised; looking up she found every eye on her.

"Miss Bennet," said Lady Braithwaite crisply. "As you know, you are here to act as an example to Emma, so that when she is launched into society she will do so as a credit to her name and family."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Well, Miss Bennet, make sure to always live up to your duty. The last governess was sadly lacking in judgment in what constituted a good example, and simple etiquette."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Lady Braithwaite had the unfortunate ability to look displeased even when her face was at rest. Lizzie wondered if her face had simply taken on that look after being stretched that way too often.  
Lord Braithwaite asked about her family background, and the conversation drifted to other topics.

Elizabeth took the time to examine the faces around the table. Lady Braithwaite had a square chin, and a faintly masculine build. It was hard to see any trace of Emma's soft femininity in her. Lord Braithwaite was a smaller man than his wife and must have been very handsome at one time.

Elliot was sitting at his right, and as Lizzie looked at him, he stared back with unblinking eyes. He was very handsome with a quantity of floppy blonde hair and very agreeable features. He looked older than her first estimation of him. She judged him now to be about twenty five. She looked away quickly, feeling warm.

* * *

In bed that night, Lizzie thought about the men of her acquaintance. There was her father of course. She sighed. If only. She missed him every day. His quick wit, his love for her. She turned her thoughts resolutely away.

Mr Collins had actually proposed marriage to her. Pompous, selfish man. She pictured Longbourne. If Only.

Charles Bingley! He was nice. He had been in love with Jane until he had disappeared. And she knew who to blame for that. Poor Jane.

Mr Darcy. Now what was his first name? She couldn't recall ever having heard it. There was so much she didn't know about him. What had made him ask her to marry him? And what if she would have accepted? The thought plowed through her consciousness. You wouldn't be here, it whispered. You would be in a country mansion with servants waiting on you hand and foot, and in a loveless marriage, with a husband you both hate and disrespect, the voice concluded. She had disliked him almost on sight. But she could never get him out of her head either.  
He hadn't denied the accusations she had flung at him on their last encounter. He had been instrumental in separating Bingley from her sister, and also from ruining the prospects of Mr Whickham. She didn't understand.

Enough! Whom else did she know?

George Wickham. Her mind fixed on his face. A very handsome face. That had been a pleasant acquaintance. Lizzie permitted herself a smile. Wickham had attracted her, she had to admit. Both physically and emotionally she had felt very drawn to the handsome soldier.

Yet another face intruded. One with floppy blonde hair and very fine features. Elliot decidedly did not attract her. But there was an excitement attached to him. Perhaps it was the way he stared at her so fixedly. She was not so sure she didn't want to bump into him after all.

Lizzie turned over and slept.

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**Please review and tell me how I'm doing! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors note: **

**Finally - Enter Mr. Darcy!**

**Thank you so much to my wonderful reviewers. With a little encouragement I should manage a chapter a day!**  
**Thanks as always to Miss Pseudonymous for editing (and hacking) and so much more! Enjoy the books!**

**

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Emma pushed open the door to the schoolroom. "May I come in?"

Lizzie looked up from the map Kate was drawing. "Of course, what is it Emma?" Lizzie did not miss the annoyed look that flashed across Kate's face.

"Mama would like to see you, Miss Bennet, when lessons are over."

Lizzie hurried downstairs. Lady Braithwaite, she had learned, did not like to be kept waiting.

"There you are, Miss Bennet. I am holding a small party tomorrow night. I would like the children to perform. Select something suitable."

"Yes Ma'am, I will find some appropriate poetry."

* * *

That evening, Lizzie read to Kate and Lucinda for a while. Lucinda drifted off to sleep in a very few minutes. Then Lizzie closed the book. "Kate, I hope you will not mind me asking you something, are you upset with Emma?"

Kate looked up surprised at this blunt question. "No of course not. Emma is the best sister in the world."

"But something is wrong?"

Kate looked miserable. "It is Mama. She is always hinting that Emma is the pretty one, and I'm the plain one. When Emma was my age, Mama was always showing her off. She never does that with me. I hate it. Everyone is always praising her and ignoring me. Why are you smiling, Miss Bennet?"

"Because, dear, I have a story to tell you." Lizzie lay down on Kate's bed, put her arm around her, and told her about five sisters growing up in the country. The oldest being a sweet winning beautiful child, the second being plain, argumentative and annoying. Lizzie spun tales, recounted episodes, and very nearly forgot the moral she was trying to impart.

When Kate was sleeping, Lizzie sat up. She thought she had heard something. The door was slightly open, and as she approached it, she saw a shadow moving.

"Oh, Mr. Braithwaite, what a surprise you gave me." Elliot Braithwaite was lolling against the wall, obviously having been there some time.

"Good evening, Miss Bennet."

"Good evening."

He smiled sardonically, "Now which sister were you I wonder?" He gave her a slow look, starting from her toes, up her legs, and torso, lingering over her breasts, and stopping with a deliberate look at her face. He held her gaze for a moment, and Lizzie felt as if he had just stripped her naked. And she felt he knew it.

He leaned one arm on the wall behind her. Lizzie felt trapped. She couldn't catch her breath. "You really are very pretty, Miss Bennet, I must come to visit the nurseries more often I think." His voice was quiet, and it ended on a tone bordering a whisper.

With another look, he brushed past her and went down the stairs.

Lizzie ran back to her room. She jumped onto her bed. Then she leaped up to the door, and twisted the key in the lock.

* * *

The children were learning their poetry pieces very well, and Lizzie allowed herself a breath of contentment. She was looking forward to tonight. Lady Braithwaite had mentioned that Mrs. Wyncham was an old family friend, and was to attend. Lizzie hoped to catch a few quiet words with Jane.

That evening she dressed again in grey, tugged her hair back, gave a rebellious look at her looking glass, and strode out of the room.

Emma was sitting on the foot of her bed when Lizzie entered her room. She was wearing a simple white dress, with trimmings of palest pink. It was very suitable for a child of fifteen. Kate was wearing a ruffled creation, with her ruffles showing below her short skirts. Lucinda looked sweet in blue with a large collar, but she was only going to be at the party for half an hour. Then Lizzie was to deliver her back upstairs for the nursery maid.

Jane arrived, with the elderly Mrs. Wyncham on her arm. Lizzie took an instant shine to the little bird-like woman.

"Lizzie," Jane whispered as soon as she was able. "She is a pleasure. She wishes to marry me off directly to the most inappropriate, highest born man in town by tomorrow."

Lizzie smiled. "Jane, I have missed you."

The small rooms were filling up and the air got stuffier and the noise more overwhelming. Lizzie coached her girls on their recitals, and held onto their hands tightly. This was as much a test for her as it was for them. She was sure.

Emma's low clear tones carried to the furthest corner of the room, and Lizzie couldn't have been more pleased. Kate said her lines a little too quickly, but she also received a big smile and a hug. Lucinda made everyone smile with her baby lisp, and Lizzie carried her off to bed. Lizzie skipped down the steps lightly. It had gone well, she thought. Lady Braithwaite would not be able to fault her there.

Lizzie suddenly stopped. The door to the drawing room was blocked. Blocked by a figure Lizzie was learning to try to avoid.

Elliot looked her over lazily. "My dear Miss Bennet, you do look well. Is it for a special someone's benefit? Or are we all to enjoy your beauty?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Never mind." Elliot drawled, "My intentions will become clear before very long."

He moved away and Lizzie took a moment to collect herself before she entered. Her heart was going like a hammer, yet she felt slightly exhilarated at the same time.

She spotted Emma as soon as she entered and went to sit with her. Jane and Mrs. Wyncham came to join them too, and soon it was a very merry party. Mrs. Wyncham had stories about her own youth to make anyone laugh. The time when she pulled off her beau's wig, while trying to remove a spider, and the time she had got lost in the park and been rescued by a Duke.

Suddenly Lizzie started. It couldn't be. He couldn't be here! She sat up as straight as a board, then quickly shrank down trying to hide. Her cheeks felt like fire. He mustn't see her! He was looking her way, no he wasn't. Yes he was. Lizzie looked left and right, searching for a way out. He was bearing down on them. Lizzie despaired. She stood.

Mr Darcy looked down into her little face from his impressive height. He looked strangely triumphant. "Miss Elizabeth."

She bobbed. "Mr Darcy."

He smiled gently at her. "I never expected to see you here."

"I am Lady Braithwaites children's governess."

He continued to look intensely at her. "Yes I heard about your sad loss. So unfortunate, at such a young age. His prime."

She nodded. What was he doing here? Talking to her? And being so kind? She was a governess! "Lady Braithwaite is looking this way and she does not look pleased. Please leave or she will be angry with me. I cannot lose this job."

His face darkened. "As you wish." And with a bow he disappeared.

Lady Braithwaite appeared at her elbow. Her eyes narrowed as she searched Lizzie's. She obviously decided not to mention the strange encounter.  
"Miss Bennet, the children performed charmingly. Now if you please, take them up to bed. Good night, Miss Bennet."

Lizzie collected Emma from her chair, and a drooping Kate. Her thoughts were pounding through her head. Darcy? Here? And he had smiled at her! He looked quite different when he smiled. Actually that might have been the first time she had ever seen him smile.

Her mind hummed with their last encounter, when he had proposed so hurtfully and when she had flung his proposals figuratively in his face. What he had said and how he had looked. And what she had said. Her anger kindled now, she twisted her pillow. He was the most infuriating man! She had never known a man to get under her skin like that.

The thought presented itself. "What if he still feels the same way? What if he still loves you?"

"Elizabeth Bennet!" She told herself, "You are a governess now. And don't you forget it!"

Tossing, she recounted all her grievances. He had separated Jane from Bingley. If not for him, she would be a wealthy married lady by now. He had acted cruelly to Mr Whickham. But he had smiled at her!

* * *

The next day, Lizzie met Jane and Mrs. Wyncham in the park. She settled Emma with a sketch pad and Kate and Lucinda with some watercolours.

"Lizzie, I have just been telling Mrs. Wyncham all about our knowing Mr Darcy, and she is quite interested."

"Yes my dears, he seemed to be a very handsome, personable young man, and I would try my luck with him myself, if I was half a century younger and if it weren't clear which way the wind blew in that quarter," she chuckled.

Lizzie looked up quickly. Had Mrs. Wyncham guessed anything? Even Jane didn't know the extent of the relationship.

"So Miss Lizzie, how many times did he propose?"

Lizzie's look of shock made Jane giggle. "Mrs. Wyncham, I declare you have misunderstood. Lizzie hates Mr Darcy. Don't you Lizzie? Lizzie?"

Lizzie had hidden her face. "Oh Jane, Mrs. Wyncham, you might as well have the whole of it. He proposed marriage to me, but only once. The day before I left Hunsford parsonage."

"The day before father died?"

"Yes. He proposed, and I said no. I never expected to see him again"

"Lizzie, no, I cannot believe this, what did he say? Was he in love with you?"

"He said he was, although he expressed himself just as strongly on the subject of my low connections, and the undesirability of myself as a marriage partner, however his love would not be quieted. Yet I told him I did not want to be his wife."

Jane's eyes were as large as plates. Mrs. Wynchams eyes twinkled. "Aye, I'll warrant that's not all you said."

Lizzie swung round, her eyes slightly embarrassed. "Mrs. Wyncham, do you truly want to know what I told him?"

"Yes, my dear. My life is very dull. I live through the loves and lives of others."

"I told him he was no gentleman. I told him nothing would ever induce me to marry him. I challenged him to answer some negative stories I had heard of him."

Jane gasped. "Oh, Lizzie!"

Mrs. Wyncham gave a slow smile. "I do like you, Miss Lizzie Bennet."

Lizzie smiled back.

"I have invited him to a little entertainment evening at my house next week. Lizzie, you and Jane will attend as my personal guests."

Lizzie looked stricken. "Mrs. Wyncham, I don't want to see him."

"Yes dear, but you will come to please me."

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	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note:**

**Thank You to all my reviewers and supporters! **

**Interesting point of trivia: This whole story has been written on my blackberry, at odd moments during the day. **

**Hope you enjoy the next bit...**

**Thanks to MissP, who is counting down the days till the Georgette Heyer package arrives! **

**(THEY'RE HERE! Apparently it's like Christmas, and they ship each one separately to extend the awesomeness! I got 3 already and a slip to pick up more at the post office! YAYUS!)**

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Lizzie found it difficult to sleep that night.

"Tillie," she whispered, "are you awake?"

"Yes Lizzie, can't yer sleep?"

"No. I can't get used to the noises of town."

"I know what yer mean, Miss Lizzie, it took me a while to get used to it, too. At home I shared me bed with two of me sisters. I was woken up every night by someone getting up to use the privvy, or my dad coming back from the alehouse. When I came here, I couldn't get used to the quiet."

"My sister jane and I shared a room since we were small."

"Is she the pretty one?"

Lizzie smiled resignedly. Her bedtime story to Kate had reached every corner of the house, it seemed.

"Yes. She is two years older than I am."

"Is she married?"

"No. We all thought she was going to be married last year, but nothing came of it."

Tillie nodded sagely.

"That's what happens sometimes. Me sister Rosie went with Bobby Piper since they was kids, and then he upped and married Martha, the grocer's niece. Men is fickle, Lizzie, very fickle. Don't trust 'em not to run away, until you have a ring on your finger, and even then take care. That's what me mother always says."

"Do you not have a young man then, Tillie?"

"Several," she grinned naughtily. "I keep spares in case one runs off."

They laughed companionably.

"What about you, Lizzie? Do you have a young man?"

"No." lizzie said. A little to quickly.

"Well, what would he be like if you did have one?"

Lizzie considered.

"He must be tall, I abhor little twitchy men, and stron. I like someone to depend on, don't you? And very good looking of course with dark hair and eyes."

Lizzie stopped, blushing. But Tillie hadn't noticed.

"Well if I see him, I'll be sure to let you know." She smiled at her.

* * *

The next few days passed quickly. Between dodging Elliot as much as possible, and her lessons, and doing all the hundred and one things Lady Braithwaite thought a governess should occupy her time with, it was Wednesday before she knew it and time to get ready for Mrs. Wynchams social evening.

Lady Braithwaite was not delighted that her governess was accepting social engagements.

"I suppose you must go," she said with a frown, "as it is Lady Wyncham, but I hope this is not going to occur too often."

Lizzie dressed carefully. She twisted her hair into an elegant knot, allowing some soft tendrils to frame her face. Her dark green dress was lower cut than anything she had worn for the past two months. She took one last glance at herself, and left, with Tillie's good wishes echoing behind her.

"Catch the eye of a lord, or a duke!"

It was but a short walk, but as it was chilly, she was glad of her cloak and large scarf.

When she arrived, the rooms were full. Lots of older women, and nearly as many men were milling around, all talking about the latest scandal and who was secretly engaged. Lizzie opened her fan and entered the room. She waved at Jane. The room was done up very fashionably with dark striped wallpaper and gold brocade chairs. Lizzie supposed some people liked it, but it all looked very uncomfortable to her. The dinner was all she expected. Slightly dull but enjoyable nevertheless. She was seated next to a rotund middle aged man, who was a former soldier. He regaled his half of the table with his exploits on the peninsula.

Lizzie was annoyed. She wanted not to even notice that Darcy was sitting at the other end of the long table. But of course she had seen him instantly. He looked reserved and slightly disdainful of his company. Lizzie wondered if he was uncomfortable in social situations. She looked at him from time to time, but he paid her no attention, and, she told herself, for that she was grateful.

Jane and Lizzie listened to an enormous opera singer, and giggled conspiratorially at the faces she affected and her enormous bosom.

Darcy was standing to one side. She was intensly aware of him. But she could not look at him without twisting her head. She twisted her head only once. He was gazing at the opera singer with wide incredulous eyes. Maybe he too was surprised that one person could make so much noise.

She regretfully made her goodbyes a short while later.

One moment later a tall dark man with dark eyes followed her into the hallway.

Lizzie was tying her scarf when Mr Darcy stepped out, a hand instantly on her arm.

He took a breath. "Miss Bennet." A letter was lying in his palm.

"Will you do me the honour of reading this letter?"

Lizzie froze, staring at him wordlessly. A elderly couple noisily exited the dining room, and the letter was gone.

Darcy knelt at her feet, picking up the scarf she had dropped in surprise. It was now wrapped in a knot.

"Miss Bennet," he bowed. "Good Evening."

Lizzie smiled unseeingly at the old couple, clutching her scarf. She knew. She just knew it now held that letter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors Note: Thank you, Thank you, Thank you to all my readers and reviewers! (Especially my reviewers!)**  
**Enjoy the next bit! Lots happening in the next chapter. And don't forget to review :)**  
**Thanks to MissPseudonymous for posting this for me! A big hand for MissP everyone! And read her stuff, its fantastic! (Very true! Very true! Read my stuff :) )**

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The Braithwaite home was almost totally dark. Lizzie let herself in the back door, and sat down in the kitchen. She lit a lamp, and broke open the scarlet seal. A letter revealed itself, wrapped around another packet, itself waxed shut with the same crest.

Lizzie peered at the letter. It was so dim, and his writing was very small.

"Miss Bennet, the letter within was written four months ago, on the night immediately following our last meeting at Hunsford."

Lizzie smiled. That was a tactful way to put it. She bent to the page once more.

"I intended to give the letter to you the next morning, but when I arrived at the parsonage, I was informed of your departure and the sad news of your fathers demise. I thought of every possible strategy how I could help you through that difficult time, but at last I came to the realisation, that in all probability you wanted to mourn alone. Please accept my condolences now as I wished to give them to you then.

"The letter within contains truths, which I am desperate for you to hear, although I can think of some expressions within which might justly make you hate me, I wish you to read it as I wrote it that night. Please pass over any strong expressions, and appreciate that I wrote this while in a passionate state of mind. It has been a constant companion to me ever since that day. I knew not how to give you the letter and was considering many fantastic schemes. A week has passed since I met you so providentially, and I am determined to give you this during the course of this evening.

Please read it, and think better of  
F. Darcy

P.S. I am aware that your feelings and sensibilities may be offended by this communication, but I truly ask only for a chance to exonerate myself, not to repeat anything of the question which I put to you that day. I will be silent on that, but if you ever find yourself in need of assistance, please know you have a friend in  
F. Darcy

Lizzie looked up. The letter seemed like he was honestly trying to be pleasant, like he had appeared that night and the week previously. But what oh what was his Christian name? She broke open the second seal, and bent over the closely written pages.

A long while later she sat back in her chair. Then she jumped up and started pacing noiselessly. She felt as if she had just been through a mangle. She thought she had known him. She thought she had made a fair assessment of his character. And yet this letter! He had insulted her, offended her and hurt her feelings and her sisters prospects. And yet he wrote truth. The letter fairly glowed with it. The realisation that she had been duped by Wickham hurt. To think that Wickham had lied, and she had believed it unquestioningly. Wickham's pleasant face and pleasing demeanor swam in front of her memory for a moment, then it receded like an ever-distancing memory. The face now intruding into Lizzie's mind was dark and intense, not fair and friendly. The fact that he had tried to separate Bingley from her sister stung, but the beseeching look in his eyes when he had tried to hand her the letter went some way in showing that he had meant it for the best. He didn't look like the sort of man who intended to betray, or who enjoyed torturing others' sensitivities.

Lizzie crept up to bed, her mind awhirl.

* * *

Lizzie supervised the children playing ball in the park, and was relieved when Jane and Mrs. Wyncham appeared. She hurried up to them.

"Oh Jane, Jane! Hello Lady Wyncham! You can not imagine! ... last night I received a communication from Mr Darcy!"

"Lizzie, that is scandalous!"

"I know, but wait until you hear what he writes, that is more scandalous still!" And, shifting from foot to foot, Lizzie hesitatingly told them the whole.

"Now let me get this straight, dears." Mrs Wyncham held up her fingers. "He owns that he is responsible for separating Jane from the young man Bingley."

"Yes."

"But he gives a satisfactory report of his dealings with Whickham."

"Yes."

"Hmm, a man of many layers."

Lizzie looked at Jane from underneath her lashes. She seemed to be taking the blow stoically, but Lizzie thought she could discern a tenseness around her mouth, which meant that Jane was about to take a very firm stance on something.

"Lizzie, this puts him in a very different light. Although he has hurt me, I truly believe he had his friends best interests at heart."

"Oh, Jane you are too good! You are so forgiving."

"And think what he must have suffered, Wickham spreading evil rumours about him, and his poor sister."

Mrs. Wyncham took an arm of each sister, and they walked slowly down to the lake, Lizzie calling to the children to follow.

"Well, dears, he does seem as if he wants to turn over a new leaf."

Lizzie nodded. "He did seem much changed. Perhaps he took my harsh words to heart."

An elderly man in military uniform was coming up the path with two boys.

"Well met, Mrs. Wyncham."

It was a friend of the old woman's called Major Blakeney. Mrs. Wyncham smiled at him and made introductions all round. "Good Morning, Major."

"These are my two nephews, Jacob and Edward."

The boys bowed. Edward was tall and pale, with tawny hair, and Jacob, while smaller, was heavyset and dark.

Emma and Kate reached them just then, and Lizzie introduced them. She did not miss the blush on Emma's face, or the interest in Kate's eyes.

Oh well, girls will be girls.

The children began a new game with the ball, and the Major took Mrs. Wyncham's hand and put it on his arm.

Lizzie looked at Jane, and they smiled.

The girls retreated to a bench where they continued to dissect the letter sentence by sentence.

* * *

On the way home, Lizzie tried to hurry the girls taking a short cut through the riding path. "Come, let's hurry. Emma will be eating downstairs tonight, and she needs time to dress. Lucinda, be careful!"

Lizzie stepped out and grabbed the back of Lucinda's frock. A horseman just missed her, having quickly pulled sharply to one side.

"Thank you sir." Lizzie breathed. "Please excuse us, I'm so sor.."

Her words trailed off. He looked wonderful on his coal black horse. He lifted his hat, his eyes intent and questioning. Lizzie looked up at him, with a look no less intense, willing him to read the answering message in her eyes.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy. Please excuse little Lucinda, and me, for not being more vigilant."

"The fault was all mine. Is the little girl all right? I didn't see her almost till the last moment. I hope she will not suffer from the shock." He smiled down at Lucinda, clutched tight in Lizzie's arms.

Lizzie stared. He was like a new person. He was all quiet concern and amiability.

"Yes, quite, thanks to your quick actions."

He tipped his hat once more, and galloped down the path.

Lizzie fought the rising blush in her cheeks.

* * *

Reaching home, Lady Braithwaite rushed out.

"Darling Lucinda, are you quite unhurt? Mr Darcy was just here to apologise for his clumsiness."

Lizzie's lower jaw dropped.

Lady Braithwaite continued, "He was very particular that I understand it was his fault, and how sorry he was."

Lizzie consciously closed her mouth. Had he come to make sure Lady Braithwaite didn't put blame on her? It was too much. Who was this man?

* * *

Taking the back steps to the little room that she shared with Tillie, Lizzie gave a quick nervous glance behind her. Elliot frequently lurked around corners, but she couldn't see him anywhere. She no longer found his glances exciting. He scared her. There it was. She was really scared of him. The way he always brushed against her too closely when passing. The lingering, measuring looks he gave her. And the feeling that she was being watched all the time contributed to an uncomfortable feeling that she had all to often.

Reaching her room, she found herself looking forward to some time alone. Tillie would not be up until later. A dark shape rose from the chair. Lizzie screamed. A large hand clamped uncomfortably on her mouth. "Be quiet!" the shape hissed. "If you make one sound, I'll make you sorry."

Elliot! The hand released her.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Braithwaite? Please leave, or I will get into trouble." Lizzie's voice was shaking.

"I don't want to hurt you, I just want to talk to you." His breath smelled strongly of liquor.

Lizzie stared, her heart beating hard. The door was just behind him. Humour him! He held her hands in an uncomfortable grip.

"Miss Lizzie, I've been meaning to ask you something." His voice was silky. "How come a pretty girl like you doesn't have a sweetheart?"

"I just don't."

"Have you ever been with a man?"

Lizzie's cheeks flushed. He appraised her slowly, appreciating the rising colour and the increasing discomfort.

"This is inappropriate. Please leave." She was pleased with her voice. It was almost steady. She bit down on her rising scream.

"Oh you are quite the innocent aren't you? Don't look at me with those big eyes, Miss Bennet. Lizzie, I may call you that mayn't I? You interest me, I really find you most interesting."

A heavy step on the stairs heralded Tillie's approach.

He stepped back from her. "You better keep this quiet or it will be the worse for you."

He passed Tillie in the doorway. "Lizzie?"

"He just came." Lizzie sounded slightly hysterical.

"Did he hurt ya?" Her voice was worried.

"No he didn't. He was drunk. Tillie, please keep this quiet."

Tillie looked worried. "If that's what you want, Miss Lizzie, but I don like this! I don't like this at all."

Lizzie, laying down a moment later, felt quite shaken. No, he hadn't touched her. But what would he do next time?

* * *

**Authors Note: No, I'm not introducing vampires or werewolves into my story! Whatever gave you that idea? :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Teeheehee :) Goldie forgot to write an Author's Note, so I will! Bwuahahaha!**

**Come to think of it, I have nothing at all to say.**

**Well ain't that a shame and a waste of a perfect opportunity.**

**Well then. On with the story!**

**~ Miss Pseudonymous :)**

* * *

Lizzie patted her gingham dress into place. A day in the country was a delight indeed after the stuffiness of the town. It had been decided that a select party in the country would ease Emma's entry into society when the time came.

Lord and Lady Braithwaite had invited some friends and a picnic lunch was at this moment being packed. An added interest was to be the presence of Mr. Darcy who was fast becoming a favourite of the family. An added affliction was to be the presence of Elliot Braithwaite. Although a month had passed since that incident, Lizzie preferred to keep her distance from him at all times.

Emma was wearing gingham too. Her face was becomingly flushed with excitement. "Oh dear Miss Bennet, is Major Blakeney to join us?"

"I believe so, and also his nephews." Lizzie smiled.

Emma's cheeks went a little pinker. The majors nephews were eighteen and sixteen, both very pleasant lads, and Lizzie could understand the attraction.

Lizzie sat in the coach with Emma and Kate. The whoops and cheers as they passed the other coach made them all smile. Elliot sat in the drivers seat, and Edward and Jacob were climbing up, Edward wearing a shady straw hat.

The weather was really delightful, and Lizzie made sure that the girls' bonnets were on tight. It wouldn't do to turn brown. Pale skin was the fashion, thought Lizzie, although Jacob made the alternative look very handsome indeed.

They settled near a stream, and the men immediately set about setting their fishing lines. There were some enormous trees scattered over the area, and the sun shone through the branches, streaking the grass below. Lizzie drank up the sun with delight.

Mr. Darcy sat on another blanket near Elliot. They didn't seem to be talking much. They were a study of contrasts, thought Lizzie. One so tall, broad and dark, the other slight and blonde.

Lucinda came running, shrieking, trying to dodge Kate. She knocked into Elliot and went tumbling over.

"Lucinda, why don't you look where you are going?" He said testily. Lizzie wondered if he had wanted to come. He seemed uncomfortable with Darcy.

Lucinda stood in front of Mr. Darcy staring at him. He looked back. She stuck her tummy out, and clasped her hands tightly behind her. Then she went right up to him.

"Are you angry sir?"

"What?" Mr. Darcy was not used to being stared down by six-year-olds. He answered shortly. "No of course not, why should I be?"

"You have a line here," her fingers pressed the little crease in between his eyes, "and here." Her fingers stroked the brackets on either side of his mouth.

Darcy stared at her. He felt out of his depth. In fact he felt like he was drowning.

Lizzie peeking out the corner of one eye, called, "Lucinda, are you harassing Mr. Darcy?"

"I'm not, 'rassing him." She gave a measured look at the rug. Yes, she could squeeze in. Lucinda crossed her legs and leaned her elbows on her knees. She stared up in his face with adoring eyes.

"Would you like to be my friend?"

Darcy gulped. He gave a fleeting glance around, Lizzie smiled encouragingly. "Why of course. What is it you would like me to do?" His voice was stilted, and he sounded very unsure of himself.

"What do you do with your friends?"

Darcy considered. "I go shooting when I can."

The little girls face wrinkled. "Oh I shouldn't enjoy that at all. I don't like dead things." She considered him thoughtfully. "Do you like dolls?"

Darcy choked. Lucinda continued oblivious.

"I have some very pretty dolls. Maybe you could come and play with them. Maybelle is the prettiest, but Carol doesn't like to hear that, so I never tell her. Susan has the most beautiful dress, but Maybelle has nicer hair." She stopped. "You can choose, Mr. Darcy," she said kindly.

Darcy's colour had slowly returned to normal. He cleared his throat. "Did you know I have a younger sister?"

"Do you?" She sounded delighted. "How old is she? Is she older than me? Can I play with her?"

Lizzie was shamelessly eavesdropping now. Grinning to herself she eased herself around, so she could observe them clearly without being seen herself.

Darcy was talking slowly now. "Do you know once when we were out taking a walk, she fell down a cliff?"

Lucinda clutched her hands together. "No! What happened?"

"She fell a little way, but there was a ledge just a little way down, and I could pull her up easily. Do you know, she said the flowers on that ledge were exceptionally beautiful."

Kate had wondered over now, and sat down too. Darcy looked surprised for a moment, but recollected his composure, and was soon enthralling Lucinda (and Lizzie) with a story about a walk he had taken last year with his younger sister, Georgiana. Lizzie wondered smilingly if they had really seen a spider as big as her hand, then a rat as big as a cat, and a bobcat, and fallen down a cliff, and been captured by bandits all during the same country walk.

Lizzie thought that one day Darcy might be a very attentive father.

A game of hide and seek was being organised and everybody had to play, stated Lucinda. "Mr. Darcy may I hide with you?"

Soon the field was quiet, Mrs. Braithwaite sitting quietly her knitting and sewing.

Lizzie was hiding with Kate, in the middle of a very thorny bush, some distance from the others. "I feel like I'm being cut to ribbons, Miss Bennet, I'm going to go find somewhere softer."

Lizzie would have joined her, but her skirt had snagged and she was busy trying to detach the thorny branch without ripping the material.

She spotted Jacob and Emma returning, him with a wide smile on his face, and hers becomingly flushed. She gave up the skirt as a bad job and reluctantly pulled hard. The skirt tore, but only a little way. She knew Mrs. Wyncham would have some pins. She gave one last yank and tumbled backwards, into Elliot Braithwaite.

"Well hello, Miss Bennet, this is a wonderful surprise. I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

"I'm sorry, I slipped, please excuse me."

"I think one kiss would ensure my forgiveness."

"No," she whispered, backing away. He followed.

"I think I need to teach you some manners, Lizzie Bennet."

He reached out a hand and grabbed her. Lizzie tried to detach herself from his grip but he held her firmly. His arm inched around her shoulders.

Lizzie frantically pulled away, the shoulder of her gown ripping loudly.

Eliot smiled. "The view just got even more agreeable."

Lizzie wrenched herself away pulled her dress straight and ran. She was furious and confused.

"My dress caught on the thorns." she breathlessly told no one in particular, and shrugging on her shawl, she made her way close to the stream. Her breath was still coming in short gasps, and she struggled to control it.

Mr. Darcy chose exactly that moment to drift her way. His eyes fixed on her streaked cheeks. "Miss Bennet, are you well?"

Her shoulders heaved, but she forced her breathing to become slow and steady.

"I am quite well, Mr. Darcy."

A pressure built in her chest, a pain behind her eyes. She looked up at the non-flinching eyes fixed on the jagged tear at her neckline.

"I was trapped. I couldn't get away. From the thorns." She finished raggedly.

He rearranged his long legs, and sat next to her.

"Miss Bennet," he said softly. "Please remember what I wrote in my postscript. Is there any way I can be of assistance?"

Lizzie looked at him. "No. Thank you, Mr. Darcy."

He gave her a thoughtful look. Then he looked away, and commented on the weather, and the state of the roads. Everything, in fact, to calm Lizzie down and ensure that by the time the party had gathered again, there was nothing amiss.

Darcy looked hard at Elliot when he came near. He didn't talk to him the rest of the day.

* * *

**Review, my pretties! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi Guys, sorry for the delay, I moved house :)  
For everyone who want to see Darcy give it to Elliot, its not happening yet, but as Mr Bennet says: READ ON.  
(And review of course)**

**(From me, Miss P - Sorry for the delay, which is partially my fault.  
Send awesome reviews and I will try to make sure it never happens again.)  
**

* * *

Jane Bennet was undoubtedly the beauty of her family. Along with her goddess-like looks and figure came an inner beauty and gentleness that sometimes worked against her.

She was deeply, absolutely and irrevocably in love with Mr. Bingley. They had met a year previously, and she had been instantly attracted to her friendly, open-faced neighbour.  
They had talked, danced and flirted and she had thought they had come to an unspoken understanding. But then he had left. And she hadn't seen or heard anything from him since that time.

Until now. Coming out of a ribbon shop earlier that day, Jane had spied Mr. Bingley walking with a friend. She had frozen to the spot. The feelings of loss and confusion which had been her companions for so many months receded slightly. His coat was blue and she knew it complimented his eyes although she was not close enough to tell for sure.

Following as close as she dared, she heard them making plans to see an opera that evening.

She wanted to confront him. She really did, but her natural timidity stopped her.

She gazed after him, taking pleasure in his existence, willing him to look around. But he did not. Jane Bennet looked unseeingly ahead of her. Maidenly modesty and retiring demeanour had got her this far. Shaking her head slightly, Jane smiled determinedly. She would see what a little subterfuge could do.

"My dear Mrs. Wyncham," said Jane Bennet as she entered the said lady's drawing room a quarter of an hour later. "I have brought you the ribbon you asked for, and I've had a rather good idea."  
She took a fortifying breath. "Would you like to attend the opera this evening? I long to go."

Mrs. Wyncham looked up. "This is all rather sudden, isn't it dear? I don't remember you pining for the opera before."

Jane blushed. But she soldiered on. "But I have heard the principal singer is supposed to be divine."

Mrs. Wyncham looked at the risen colour in Janes cheeks. "I think it would be very pleasant."

* * *

Jane dressed carefully. Her midnight blue dress was severely cut in a fashion that suited her. The unbroken line of fabric was softened by a sprig of purple flowers at her breast.

Jane's heart was skipping in her chest. She had to speak with him. She was determined to ask him. Ask him what exactly? Why he left Hertfordshire? He was at perfect liberty to stay where he chose. Why he had listened to his friend? He was a grown man after all.

The opera was a good one, and Jane thought as she gazed searchingly at the boxes, that even if he didn't come it would not be a wasted evening.

During the interval, Jane took Mrs. Wyncham to get some lemonade, then back to greet a friend, and then back to pick up her glove. All in all she crossed the halls three or four times but she caught no glimpse of him.

During the second act her eye caught on a bright flash of blue directly opposite. She gazed into his eyes. He looked shocked and then he disappeared.

Jane slumped down slightly. She had tried. She had manipulated matters so he had seen her, she had been ready to talk to him, as foreign as that was to her shy nature, but he obviously wasn't interested. A light went out in her heart. Mrs. Wyncham, to her left, seemingly saw nothing, for which Jane was glad. This was pain. She didn't want to share it. She wanted to hug it close to her heart.

A knock at the door of the box failed to penetrate the fog of hurt surrounding Jane.  
Mrs. Wyncham tapped her arm. "Jane dear, Someone is here to see you."

Jane stood unsteadily. Her hand went to her throat. "Mr. Bingley."

"Miss Bennet, I cannot tell you how delighted I am to meet you again. I often think of the pleasant times we had together. I..." he faltered. "May I call on you tomorrow?"

In bed that night Jane relived every moment of the evening. He had come to see her. He had said he thought of her often. And he was coming to see her tomorrow. She snuggled into her blanket and closed her eyes

* * *

Emma Braithwaite was also in love. She was quite sure about it. Her friend Felicity had told her what it felt like and Emma had all the symptoms. No appetite - she had refused a second helping of dessert only yesterday. Inability to concentrate - she couldn't attend to her french lesson no matter how hard she tried. And she was constantly thinking of her loved ones face. Faces, Emma corrected herself. She couldn't decide which one of the Blakeney boys she liked best. Edward was..Edward. Tall and perfect, he knew how to listen, and had a very sweet laugh that Emma loved to hear. Sometimes his voice would break with emotion, which Emma did find a little annoying, but still he was perfect.

And then there was Jacob. Jacob was everything Edward wasn't. Approachable and friendly where Edward was reserved. Dark and swarthy, he was always helping out, always cheering everyone up. But somehow everyone seemed to notice Edward more.

Emma decided to ask Lizzie about it. She needed more clarity. She wanted to fall in love the right way. Emma always liked to do everything right. And she definitely wanted to fall in love with the right person. Emma climbed the steps to Lizzie's door and knocked. Lizzie was older than her, and she was certain, much wiser in the ways of love.

Lizzie's eyes crinkled. "And what makes you think I'm the person to talk to?"

Emma sat down on Lizzie's bed in a ruffle of lace. Her nightgown was very becoming, her plump curves dimpling in the candlelight.

"You can't honestly imagine I am going to talk to Mother?"

Lizzie grinned.

Emma continued. "Well you're older than me, you're very pretty and I'm sure you must have lots of experience, so I'm sure you can help me."

Lizzie smiled again. "I'm flattered that you think I'm pretty. What is the problem you mentioned?"

"I'm in love."

"Oh."

"With two people."

"Oh."

"You see, they are both so agreeable, and they both seem to like me."

"You are talking of Edward and Jacob? Yes they do."

Lizzie had not failed to see the predatory glances Edward shot Emma, or the puppy love looks Jacob had been sending her way.

"Emma, how old are you?"

"I am nearly sixteen."

"Hmm."

"And I am old enough to be in love."

"Of course, you are, with two people no less."

"Miss Bennet, don't laugh at me. I do not want to get married now, but how will I know when the right man comes along?"

Lizzie lifted her knot of hair and began to unpin it. Soft waves flowed down her back. "Emma dear. I am not married. I haven't found the right one either."

But there was a strained quality to her tones which Emma was quick to notice. "How do you know they are not?"

Lizzie stifled a laugh. "That's a good deal easier to answer. I have definitely met some of the wrong ones." Plaiting her hair and fastening it, Lizzie plopped down on the bed next to Emma. "Now dear, I am going to tell you the thrilling romantic saga of Mr. Collins, and his brave quest for a bride. He was wonderfully gallant and his proposals were a wonder of English literary exercise."

Emma sparkled. "A proposal. I wonder what that must feel like. It must be terribly romantic."

"Hardly. My experiences with proposals have been terribly unromantic."

Emma's eyes widened. "What was Mr. Collins like?"

"Plump, short and he had a wet upper lip, a bald patch he tried to hide by combing over." Emma face beheld horror.

Lizzie gaily told her all about William Collins and his short sojourn in Longbourne. "And then the next day, you will never guess what happened."

"What?"

"He proposed to my neighbour."

And the two girls collapsed in giggles. Emma recovered first.

"Did you not say proposals? Did you receive more than one?"

Lizzie was quiet for a long while. "Emma." She began. And then she was quiet again. She was trying to formulate her thoughts. "Emma, you won't mind that I choose not to talk about this."

Emma nodded silently in the dark.

Lizzie was quiet again. When he had proposed, she had been furious. And hurt. She had even been repulsed. But she had been slightly flattered. Just for one little moment, she had been flattered that she had aroused such feelings and desires in the heart of such a powerful man. He had hurt her feelings, and indeed been almost cruel in his honesty. And she had hated him for it. Hated him, because she knew he was correct in many of his assertions. But that didn't mean he had to mention them! The hurt flared once again in her breast. What had he said? He had said he loved her. Really loved her! And then he had proceeded to shame her and embarrass her in every way possible. How could he have imagined she would marry him then? He didn't know her!  
She thought of him as he had acted now. Did he still wish to marry her?

She couldn't be sure.

Lizzie shook her head and turned to Emma. "I will tell you this: it was NOT romantic."

Lying side by side, the girls talked of nothing and everything.

Emma remarked, "Oh I do like you Miss Bennet, Miss Gilbert was not approachable at all."

"What was she like?"

"She was here for a long time, and then Mother sent her away, but she never told us why. I think she thought that she harboured feelings for Elliot, but of course that notion is ridiculous." Emma's voice lowered. "I think she was dying, and that's why she left."

"Really?"

"I saw her vomit on three occasions, but she told me she wasn't ill, and she became very thin. I think she was dying."

Lizzie sprang up, and then she lay down when she saw Emma's face. "I think you should to go to bed."

Lizzie lay in the dark worrying.

* * *

Jane brought Mrs. Wyncham a cup of tea, and helped her into her night clothes.

"That sister of yours looked strained."

"I didn't notice."

"She looks pale and unhappy. Mark my words."


	8. Chapter 8

Lizzie was very pleased with Kate. The young girl had recently developed a real passion for History, and Lizzie was eager to feed her enthusiasm. They had spent a delightful afternoon at Hatchards, picking out interesting books on topics she was attracted to, ranging from the Norman Conquest to Sir Francis Drakes' voyages. The Kings and Queens of England featured strongly, but Lizzie was taking care to expose Kate to other cultures and countries as well. Emma and Kate were both fascinated by present day politics, and Lizzie, while delving into subjects such as the Colonies, Slave Trade and the French Revolution, laughingly told the girls, that although they might study all they wanted in private, it would not do to seem to knowledgeable while in company.

The favorite topic of both however, was the French Revolution. Lizzie could not understand their fascination with all the grisly details. She made sure to ground them thoroughly on the rapidly changing French government, and as much information as she could regarding the royalty and the regular people of France.

Kate, however, really shone at History and Lizzie heaped praise on her. She was looking much better nowadays. She enjoyed being best at something.

* * *

Jane meanwhile had spent a most monumental morning. Mr. Bingley had made his promised visit.

Mrs. Wyncham had made the surprising statement that she was suffering from a headache. Surprising, because she never had headaches. She had gone to rest in an easy chair in the next room and had left the connecting door only very slightly ajar.

Jane had found herself overcome with shyness and had been unable to comment on anything beyond the recent cold spell and the health of his sisters.

Mr. Bingley at last turned the conversation to a more personal bent.

'Miss Bennet, I can no longer remain silent. Please let me apologize to you for my inexcusable abandonment of you last year when I quit Netherfield.'

He hesitated, and then plunged on.

'I consider it no less an abandonment, considering our acquaintance and the enjoyable times spent in each others' company...'

'Oh, Mr. Bingley'

But he had continued.

'I want to be honest with you. I was a comprehensive, unmitigated ass. My sisters and friend managed to convince me, against my better judgment, that an alliance with you would be wrong, and I stupidly allowed myself to be convinced.'

Jane nodded, her head bowed. She would not tell him that she had already been made aware of this.

'I must beg of you to forgive me. When I saw you at the Opera, I felt I was being given another chance at happiness. No woman I have met since has been your equal. I think of you a great deal, and remember all the good times we had, and I curse the weakness of character that caused me to abandon you.'

He possessed himself of her hands.

And then he slipped down on one knee.

'Miss Bennet, I love you. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?'

When Jane gave no answer he added softly, 'Please'

Jane seemed to have some difficulty formulating a reply. She took every bit of courage she had and began. She spoke slowly and choppily, her words coming in short spurts.

'Mr. Bingley, I... am hesitant... forgive me, but you were convinced away from my side so easily last year... I will not attach myself in marriage to one I cannot trust implicitly.'

Mr. Bingley's natural pink cheeks had paled visibly.

'But I love you, Jane.'

'And I you, Mr. Bingley, but what is love without trust? Please believe me, Mr. Bingley, - Charles - there is nothing I would rather do than to accept your proposals, but this I can only do when I have faith in your…constancy.'

Her words had slowed towards the end of this little speech. Indeed the last word had been forced.

She hid her crimson cheeks now, her palms over her eyes.

Mr. Bingley's eyes softened. He raised one hand to her face.

'Miss Bennet, Jane, only let me show you. I am so regretful for the past, and can only assure you of my present constancy by spending time at your side. I feel sure that with greater acquaintance and more time spent in each other's company, we would get to know each other better. Only allow me.'

Jane nodded slowly meeting his eyes again.

Mr. Bingley rose. His face cleared, and he seemed determined.

'Miss Bennet, I think this is an excellent scheme. Do you like riding?'

And so after a quick supplication to Mrs. Wyncham, Jane was engaged to go riding with Mr. Bingley the next day.

She breathed deeply. That conversation had not been easy for her. She had run the risk of throwing away her last chance of happiness forever, but her gut feeling told her she had done the right thing.

She sat on the window seat in her room that night. Curling a lock of hair around and around her finger she gazed out the glass. She was really happy to see him and spend time with him, but this time she would do it at her own pace, without her mother hounding her. She hoped she would come to trust him.

* * *

Lizzie was also sitting at her window. Her window seat was not nearly so comfortable as Jane's. It was in the housekeeper's sitting room, which the maids and Lizzie had a standing invitation to make use of. She padded the seat as best she could with cushions, and wriggled comfortably into them. She read her mother's last letter.

'...And so Lydia will go to Brighton with Mrs. Forster. I think it wonderful her being singled out as her particular friend. Brighton will be splendid with balls and entertainments every night, to say nothing of all the officers. I am almost jealous of Lydia myself. I am thinking of joining her with Kitty. A little sea bathing would set me up forever...'

Lizzie frowned. Mr. Wickham no doubt would be there too.

Lizzie shook her head. She didn't think she would ever be able to see what had drawn her parents together. Her father had been so bookish, and fond of the ridiculous. Her mother so often was the ridiculous.

A loud creak outside the room made her jump. Suddenly aware of the fact that the Braithwaites had gone out for the evening and all the children were sleeping, Lizzie felt uncomfortably alone and slightly scared.

Elliot Braithwaite threw the door open and walked in.

He looked at her, and she instinctively stood and began to back away from him. He stalked arrogantly across the room, and yanked her against him. He smelled of brandy and cigar smoke and sweat.

He held her against him with one hand. With the other he grabbed at her flailing hands. Lizzie heard the blood rushing through her ears. She tried to call out, to scream, but her throat was dry. She tried again, but the pounding of her heart, and the iciness in her chest made any speech impossible.

He laughed drunkenly. 'I've got you alone at last. Now, Lizzie, let's have it, you've been keeping yourself to yourself for too long. I think it's time I got to know you a little better. Now how shall we enjoy ourselves?'

His voice was slurred but his hold was true.

Lizzie tried desperately to free herself but he was stronger than her. Much stronger.

He held her close and bent his face towards hers, his eyes glittered and focused on her mouth.

His mouth was hard. He bruised her. Lizzie squeezed her eyes tight. She would not let him see her cry. But his hands were rough and horribly embarrassing

She strained every way she could but his grip was like a vice.

He kissed her neck now. He pawed at her bodice, pulling on the fabric. She shuddered with revulsion, then all of a moment she was furious. She pulled her shoulders up. He would not do this! He would not disrespect her this way! She was Elizabeth Bennet, and she was made of stronger stuff! She stamped on his boots, but her slippers made no impression. Then pure desperation made her bite the only part of him she could reach, his shoulder, but that was too thickly padded by his jacket. Lizzie's head felt like it was red on the inside. All she could see was red. Then a distant memory of an overheard conversation of the scullery maid coaching Lydia how to resist unwanted advances penetrated, and at last she brought her knee up and smashed it into his groin. Elliot squealed and his knees buckled.

'You bitch! just you wait.' He growled, but the action caused him to lessen his hold. She ducked under his arm and ran for the stairs. But he pulled her back by her arm hard. She fell to the floor and he fell heavily on top of her, groping and pushing. Sweating and gasping and using every ounce of strength she owned, Lizzie dragged herself away. She leaped up and ran. She tripped but straightened and darted up to her room. If she could get there before him, she could lock the door. He clambered after her, grabbing onto her skirt. Lizzie heard a ripping sound, but she did not even turn. She fell inside the little room, and locked the door. Panting she leaned against the back of it. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she gave a dry sob. Her hair was loose, her face was pale like a sheet, her arm was aching where he had twisted it and her dress was torn to ribbons.

She started to shake now and a wet sheen covered her forehead, but she was cold. Lizzie crouched on the floor by the door, she pulled her knees up to her chin, and tried to stop trembling.

In answer to Tillie's whispered questions, she shook her head and closed her eyes.

A very long while later she sat at the little writing table and pulled a quill and paper towards her.

'Dear Mr. Darcy,' she wrote.


	9. Chapter 9

**To my dear readers! Thank you for reading.  
It has made writing this fanfic so much more rewarding, and I really love hearing your opinions and ideas!  
But alas, we are at the end. Enjoy reading this chapter, as it is the last one. :)**

**Once again I would like to thank Jane Austen for the characters,  
Georgette Heyer for inspiration,  
Julia Quinn for ideas  
and Baroness Orczy for creating the coolest person ever to appear in print.**

**Thanks also go to Miss Pseudonymous, for sticking with me, correcting my grammar and punctuation and for posting every single chapter.  
(You're welcome)  
This story would not have happened without her help.  
(True)  
You're the best! We love Worth, Beaumaris, Satanas and all the rest!  
(Corinthian, Nonesuch and Sylvester!)  
(And if even ONE of you don't know what we're on about – go to the library and get a book by Georgette Heyer RIGHT NOW!)**

**ENJOY**

* * *

Dear Mr Darcy, _Lizzie wrote_,

Please forgive the manner in which I reach out to you. I know of no other way and I write to you in dire need of help and guidance. I will be in the flower garden in the park tomorrow between the hours of two and four o'clock. If I should happen upon you while there, I would be able to be more explicit.

_Elizabeth Bennet._

Lizzie pushed back from the table and pressed her thumb and forefinger over her eyes.

At last she spoke to Tillie. The young girl's eyes were huge with curiosity. Lizzie haltingly told her that she needed to contact a friend - a male friend.

A whispered discussion with Tillie yielded results. Tillie's young man would be asked to deliver the note.

* * *

Very early the next morning the two girls slipped out the back door. Lizzie gathered that this assignation with Charlie was a regular occurrence. He was a pleasant youth with spiky black hair and a multitude of freckles. He looked curiously at Lizzie.

Lizzie spent that morning tense and jumpy. She looked up constantly from the girls' work to check that the door to the nursery was still closed. She wrapped a shawl around her arms and kept it tight.

The weather looked dismal in the late morning, but after the children had eaten lunch, Lizzie hustled them into their coats and boots, and ignoring all protests marched them to the park. They received some funny looks at first, but the sun shone after a while, and with it, the children's tempers.

Lizzie sat on a slightly damp bench and scanned the park nervously every few moments. Surely he would come! Oh, he had to! She crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

The Braithwaite children were occupied happily. Emma was writing in a bound book, a journal no doubt. Kate was trying to sketch a pretty group of trees some way off. And Lucinda was rocking and whispering to her ever-present doll.

A horse came to a halt a little way away and Mr. Darcy looked down at the tableau. He dismounted easily and noisily walked up to the bench.

By the time he was near enough to greet, Lizzie and her charges had straightened up and were ready to be polite.

Mr Darcy bowed and asked after the girls' health. They replied with the expected responses, and began to discuss the weather.

Lizzie's thoughts were racing. Now that he was here, right in front of her, she didn't know what to do next.

Mr Darcy leaned over to Lizzie. 'Miss Bennet, I believe I saw a most rare species of flowering shrub over there.' He motioned airily behind him. 'I believe it would be of great scholarly import for you to examine it. I could show you the way.'

Emma jumped to her feet. 'Oh yes, let us see!'

Mr Darcy creased his brow, 'But surely, Miss Braithwaite, you would wish to stay and finish your writing.'

Lizzie spoke now, 'And I trust it is very muddy, you wouldn't want to muddy your hem.'

Lizzie took Darcy's offered arm and they walked a little way.

Emma frowned at them, but then her brow cleared and she bent to her book again with a secret smile hovering around her lips. Kate still looked confused though.

Lizzie remained in close view of her charges, indeed almost within earshot. She had to murmur to ensure privacy.

Darcy gave a conspiratorial look at Lizzie. She managed a very small smile back at him. 'Mr. Darcy, I must thank you for coming here after being summoned in this very unorthodox way.'

His face creased into an amused smile. But it was gone very quickly. In no time his face was smooth and solemn again.

And solid and dependable and so noble, Lizzie thought.

'Mr. Darcy,' she began slowly, 'You once let it be known to me that I could call on you for help.'

'I meant it truly.' He spoke low.

'I find myself needing a new position immediately.'

Darcy looked into her face quickly. 'Immediately?'

'Yes.'

'What has happened?'

Lizzie hesitated. 'It is due to a unwelcome proximity to me of some unsavoury persons.'

His eyes hardened slightly, and he gave a quick glance around them. He yanked her, not ungently into a small thicket providentially placed just there.

They were quite hidden even from the nearby children, although Lizzie could hear them clearly all the while. He helped himself to Lizzie's hand. Her gloved hand lay unresistingly in his large one.

'How many persons?' His voice was controlled but determined.

'Just one.'

'How unsavoury?' He bit out

Lizzie gulped. "Very unpleasant."

Mr. Darcy took a breath now. He spoke quietly and slowly. 'Did the said person take unwelcome liberties with you?'

Lizzie looked up into his eyes, but she could see only concern and care. 'Yes.'

He muttered to himself. It sounded suspiciously like he wanted to kill someone.

His hand slowly curved over hers and their fingers hesitantly linked and twined.

Lizzie waited a heartbeat. 'Please help me. I'm scared to go back to that house. I can't leave without a reference, and I feel sure he means to dishonour my character in some way. He doesn't leave me alone. Last night was worst of all.'

Darcy looked at her meaningfully. 'He didn't...'

Lizzie hung her head. His hand held hers firmly now. The only point of contact between them. Lizzie felt cold all over except her hand where he grasped it.

'No, but he would have if he could, and he is most offensive, and almost from the beginning he's been there, watching me. Always watching me.' Her voice broke, and she stopped and took some steadying breaths.

He was looking down at their twined fingers. Suddenly self conscious, she tried to pull her hand away. But she couldn't. He gripped her hand tightly and it was so comforting. Something leaped in Lizzie's chest.

He gently pulled her to him. He encased her in his arms, folding her to his chest. He held her there for a long moment, and Lizzie felt her breath slow, and her heart fall.

'Oh my brave Lizzie, why didn't you tell me before?'

He pulled back from her so he could see her face.

'I don't know, I thought he would stop'

He put his hand under her chin and gently raised it. 'Elizabeth.'

Lizzie blinked once.

'Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. Would you consider another position?'

'Which position would that be, Sir?'

Her voice was light now. She had got it off her chest, and now was leaning into his.

'I find myself needing another position to be filled.'

'Sir?'

'Lizzie, I find myself unable to keep silent. I was willing to wait, to show you that I wasn't the monster you thought I was. But I can't. I can't watch you suffering. Elizabeth, I love you. I've loved you for so long. I was determined to show you with everything in my power that I could change and be worthy of you. Please do me the honour of becoming my wife.'

He possessed himself of her hands again. Lizzie couldn't speak, she wasn't even sure she could breathe. But her fingers tightened on his and she nodded slightly.

His eyes soft, he looked deep into her eyes and he closed the distance between them. His lips were soft and warm. They were so gentle, and also exciting. Lizzie's heart pounded, and she clutched at the front of his coat. He chuckled down at her, and kissed her again.

Lizzie returned his ardour as well as she knew, but she couldn't keep a broad smile from breaking over her face. She was so happy!

'My Elizabeth, can it really be true?' She blushed slightly and laid her head on his chest. She felt she was coming home.

Lizzie's teasing spirits reasserted themselves. 'Mr Darcy, what position were you referring to just now?'

He cradled her face in his hands and spoke into her upturned face. 'I referred to the position of Mistress of Pemberley.'

Her delighted laughs mingled with his, and there was relief, delight and unadulterated happiness to be heard within it.

Later, it seemed like hours, but it may have only been ten or fifteen minutes, they began to make plans.

'You shall go immediately to your uncle's house until we may be married, when I can give you the protection his house will accord you till then.

'Whatever shall I say to the Braithwaites?'

'You need never say anything to them again. I will go to them and tell them that they will need to find another lackey to run after their children.'

'But where will they find another governess?'

'I neither know nor care.'

Then he looked thoughtful. 'Actually, I do care. I am going to take great care that another girl does not enter that house until it has been cleared of its unsavoury elements.'

Darcy smiled down at her and continued his exploration of her lips, her mouth, her soul.

Suddenly she jerked up.

'Mr Darcy? Please could you enlighten me on one matter?'

'Anything,' he was playing with a stray lock of hair on her neck, which felt deliciously disturbing.

'It is something that has bothered me about you for a long time now.'

'Yes?' He sounded concerned now

'What is your first name?'

Now it was his turn to blush

Lizzie giggled at the rising colour and rueful smile spreading over his cheeks.

'It is Fitzwilliam.'

Her giggles overtook her and, together laughing, her hand in his, they started walking back to find the children, move Lizzie into her uncle's house and give Elliot the stuffing of his life.

**THE END**

* * *

**There it is! Its done! My first ever full-length fanfic. Why don't you tell me what you think?**


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